


Celebrating All Soul's (Tevinter Rules)

by kayurafii



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All Soul's Day, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Foreplay, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Wham! Splat! Porn!, breath play, hair puling, prompt: Halloween, sexual magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayurafii/pseuds/kayurafii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Soul's day is celebrated by all of the faithful, each in their one way one would suppose.  And Dorian wants to share his traditions with the Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrating All Soul's (Tevinter Rules)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my turn at the Wham! Splat! Porn!  
> While this is a complete story, I'm not done with it. There's at least one more little bit I want to add, but I've run out of time for the challenge. So I'm submitting now and then I'll finish and edit and fix everthing.

All Soul’s Day wasn’t important to Dorian because he was a _mortallitasi_.  Or it wasn’t just because.  All Soul’s Day was important _and_ Dorian was a _mortallitasi_.  And the Iron Bull was lost for words, trailing about in the mage’s wake going from celebration to celebration.  Each member of the Inner Circle seemed to go about the rite differently, the only tie between them being a fire of some sort.  (Madame’s had been his favorite, her fire full of metals and other things that gave off colorful sparks and plumes.)

“You don’t have to accompany me, you realize?” Dorian said, as they left Sera and her little candle tribute.

“I have the feeling that, well,” Bull paused, reaching for the right concept, “that I need to?  Maybe that you need me to.”  What the Iron Bull didn’t say, was that Dorian had spoken of little else besides preparations for the past fortnight.

“Well, you could’ve waited for me in your room.  I hope you don’t mind me staging my own ceremony there.

The Iron Bull laughed that deep rumbling laugh that meant he was placating, “No worries, Dorian, if I had a problem with your little bedroom bonfire, I’d have mentioned it when you began gathering the stones.”

Dorian spared him only the smallest of side-glanced glares.  He had, indeed, made a not-so-very-large fire pit under the hole in The Iron Bull’s roof.  He made sure it was safe to light, and that it could stay lit for an extended period.  The flickering had thrown their shadows, tangled together, long into the night.

But that was nights past, and Dorian was looking forward to the night before him.  He was waiting.  Mid-night’s bell was his queue.

They stood, for at least two bells, at the large communal fire in the fighting ring.  Soldiers on their rounds would stop, gaze into the flames, and pray to themselves before continuing on.  The Iron Bull watched them, each praying a little different from the next.  Some bent a knee while some stood, some closed their eyes while some stared, unblinking, into the flames, and some few spoke with those around them.  Dorian shared a few words with those who acknowledged him, and he told them of All Soul’s Day in Tevinter.

He told them of costumes and fires the size of buildings burning away all manner of wooden effigy.  He went on about the masses that drew for sermons that could only be heard by those in the front, and the words would trickle back and back.  But all could feel the heat from the flames, all lit from an ever-burning pyre.  He told them of a day of fasting and remembrance.  And, to one whose eyes kept growing and growing with each tale, he told in a whisper about what happened at the end of that day.  Because when the last bell of the day rang and died into the crackle of fires, was when the celebration began.  

Some rang in their memories with feasts, whole families gathered to share in the meal and in stories of those ancestors past.  Some drank, spilling some from each goblet for those already beyond the veil.  And some, if not most before the sun rose on the following day, ended their revelries in the arms of at least one person.    _To remind them of life_ , he said, _all to remind them of what it meant to be alive_.

And then The Iron Bull let in n the secret.  And he smiled as he saw Dorian, who had been watching him as he lead the young man on, read the realization in the kossith’s eye.

“If you’ll excuse me, recruit, I have my own prayer to see to before the new day rings in.” He nodded to the young man with a small smirk, a gentle curve of his hip towards Bull.  Nothing unbecoming to the occasion.  At least the the Bull could figure.

The Iron Bull followed Dorian back to his own room.  Watched as the mage bolted all of the doors, drew the curtains, and stripped down to his smalls and jewelry.  He glittered as he, with a wave of his fingers, set his own pyre ablaze.

“What happened to _from an ever-burning pyre_?” The Bull asked with a snerk.

“Shush, one could argue that veilfire never stops burning, just that you can’t always see it.  Would you prefer I _scandalize_ the Chantry Mother’s to go fetch my spark?” Dorian teased with a glance over his shoulder.

The Iron Bull held his hands up in surrender, grinning only a little, “Just, trying to understand, kadan.  You know how us heathens do things.”

“Hah!  Which is to say, not at all.”

“As you say.”

“Tell me, _amatus_ ,” he leaned into the word, “how many bells were the last to ring.”

“You know.” The Bull said, finally giving in and sitting on his bed.  He set to undressing himself as he watched Dorian pray.  

He moved his hands in semi-complicated gestures, moving the fire with it, with closed eyes and lips that moved in silent words.  The midnight bell began to toll.  The Iron Bull counted along as he watched, still, as Dorian opened his eyes and stilled his lips and simply stared into the flames for the duration of the ringing.  

The Iron Bull counted breaths after the bell faded away into the crackle of the fire.  In-out-one.  In-out-two.  In-out-three.  Until Dorian turned around and smiled.

“I wasn’t just trying to turn that boy’s hair a premature white.”

“I _have_ been to Tevinter, you realize.  And, Ben-Hassrath, remember?” The Bull just laughed as Dorian tried not to pout.

“So you knew, all along?  So much for trying to spring a small surprise.” The mage decidedly didn’t pout, as he draped himself over his lover’s lap, not caring that his silky smalls were slipping off of him.

The Iron Bull laughed and grabbed a handful of the mage’s ass, “I was counting on it!  Got you that pretty smelling oil and everything!”

“Well, then, what _are_ you waiting for?”

“You keeping your decorations on?”

Dorian shrugged, playing with one of the chains around his neck, “Do you think they’ll be in the way?”

“Just don’t whine at me if one of those delicate chains snaps.” He says without apology as his other hand travels up the mages warm back to take a firm grip in dark hair.  “Word?”

“Katoh.” Dorian exhaled, his hand fell away from the chains to grip at a broad shoulder, a sigh not-quite-stuck in his throat.

The Iron Bull stood, Dorian’s feet plop-plopping to the floor, the mage help up mostly by his hair.  Bull gestured to the bed as he directed with his grip, pushing Dorian ahead of him onto the bed.

“Lay down, keep your hands to yourself.”  The Iron Bull growled out, his grip released, as Dorian flopped onto his back; dark, clever hands immediately moved to teasing himself.  One hand cupped his erection, hot now and not just from the fire, kneading and pressing, while his other hand moved to one pierced nipple, pulling and tugging and rolling.

The Iron Bull smiled down at him, enjoying his show, and reached to the side table where a not concealed glass phial sat, innocent and shiney.  The top popped out easily, and Dorian could smell roses and crystal grace and sandalwood and he groaned.  He abandoned grinding into his palm and turned to stroking himself, light and loose, teasing the first few drops of precum out of him.

The scent increased as the Bull brought the phial closer to his face, he inhaled the rich perfume greedily, getting ready for what this kind of decadence usually earned him.  Not that the Iron Bull was stringent in his lovemaking, but that certain queues had become signs of special times to follow.  The last time Bull had bought this particular blend had been last Satinalia.  Dorian shivered at the memory of being tied up in such a way that he couldn’t move at all of his own volition.

Bull’s free hand reached down, filed claws scraping against the mage’s scalp, working towards the best angle from which to grip.

“I’m going to fuck your face, Dorian and then I’m going to fuck you.” He smiled, all teeth, down at his kadan as his golden face went slack, eyes glassy.

“Yes, amatus.” He groaned, still pinching and pulling and stroking.

The Iron Bull reached over again, to set the phial down, before his now-free hand reach down to stroke over a plump lip and soul patch to rest on a shapely chin.  “Open, kadan.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open, no words passed in his breath, he just opened as wide as he could.  His hands fell to his sides to push himself up and level with the Iron Bull’s cock.  And he waited.  He waited as Bull traced open lips with the head of his cock, a trail of salty fluid in his wake.  Dorian resorted to making little _uh un’s_ until the Bull took pity on him and laid the weeping head against the smaller man’s tongue.

Dorian had practice with the Iron Bull’s hefty prick, he could now, for instance, undulate his tongue around the bulk without closing his mouth, and he worked to entice the Bull further.  Begging without his voice.  Bull laughed, thrusting shallowly.

“Going to have to do better than that, kadan.” His voice showing no strain as he pushed all the way in until he nudged the back of Dorian’s throat.

Lightning crackled along his length, rippling between the mage’s tongue and the kossith’s cock, as Dorian relaxed to open his throat and ngle his head to allow the Iron Bull to finish his push in.

The Iron Bull grunted, “Yeah, big guy, that’s right.” He pulled Dorian forward by his hair.

Dorian felt his belly twitch, reveling in the feeling; allowing himself to be pulled in by the waves that the Iron Bull created in him.  With a final press of his tongue, reaching for the Bull’s balls, he relaxed his jaw fully and reached a hand up to grip the wrist that Bull had left resting on his shoulder.

Bull smiled down, pride and affection etched in every line.  And then he pulled back, the tip of his cock resting on that full lower lip, now spit-slick, and pressed back in.  This time he didn’t stop before he began fucking into the man’s mouth.  His smile became all teeth and his eye closed as he praised his lover’s smart mouth.  Praised his submission and his eager nature.

Dorian rocked with him, breathing when he could and playing when he could.  Neither of which were often.  The Bull was all but holding him up, his back leaned against a pile of pillows and the headboard, but with the Iron Bull’s large hand supporting the back of his neck, fingers curled into his hair, he world had shrunk to the heat of the kossith.  The press of his cock against his tongue and into his throat, the knuckles that massaged as the fingers gripped, the velvety feel of balls slapping against his damp chin.  He became absorbed.  So much so that, when he finally heard the Bull, he knew the kossith had been repeating himself.  He lifted his eyes to lock with cool grey.

“Deep breath, Dorian.  Ready?”

Dorian groaned, high pitched and wanton, and lowered his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Another.”

He did.  

Twice more, all while the Bull kept up his shallow thrusts, before he finally grunted.  Then he began anew, faster, harder, and deeper.

Dorian floated.  His throat burned and his eyes watered and he groaned.  Deep and satisfied, and not at all worried about the breath he lost in doing so.  Bull was keeping count, Bull was in control, there was nothing he could do, nothing he wanted to do, other than receive the kossith’s cock. It was _marvelous_.

“Nnn, _Dorian_ , you’re perfect.  So close, kadan.”  He thrust another couple times before holding himself deep, knowing that the seconds were counting down.  “Swallow, big guy, show me what you’ve got.”

And Dorian did, and felt the groan the Iron Bull made as he came deep in his own balls.  The Iron Bull pulled out and back, saliva and semen connecting them for a few more seconds before breaking and trailing down Dorian’s glistening chin.  Dorian, for his part, was breathing heavily and licking his lips , still floating, gazing up at the Bull with lidded eyes reflecting the blazing fire.

The Bull used his fingers to clean up the man’s chin before he leaned in for a kiss.  Dorian had yet to actually close his mouth, to the Bull just swept his tongue in, tasting himself, and groaned again while Dorian breathed around him.

“How’d you ever learn to do that, kadan?”

Dorian laughed, high and breathy, “Practice, amatus,” a deep, shaky breath, “practice has seen many worthy things accomplished.”

The Bull, with a snicker of his own, moved from kissing the man’s mouth to kissing down his neck.  He stopped to scrape his teeth along the man’s pounding pulse and to sink them into the meat of his shoulder, smiling more at the needy noises the man let out.

“What next, kadan?  Your night, you tell me.”

Dorian whined and writhed, lifting his hips to run his cock against Bull’s belly.  It left a warm, liquid trail.  “Make me come so I can ride you.”

“If you wanted me to find a way to spend some time before I was ready again, all you had to do was keep wriggling, big guy.”  The Iron Bull laughed, one big hand going down to pin a tan hip still.

“ Mmm, Maker Bull, you want a show?” Dorian asked, one hand planted firmly on the kossith’s shoulder while the other trailed down to a nipple to _twist_ him into a moan.  He was propped up at the right angle for it.

“I like a show.” Bull growled, gravel and heat in his orgasm heavy voice.

“And I,” Dorian stopped for a quiet chuckle, “like audience participation.”  The hand resting on the broad shoulder trailed down to a broad hand and brought it up to his mouth so he could suckle on two fingers.

“I think I can handle that, kadan.”  His other hand gripped hard at the hip he was holding down.

So, with fingers thrusting in his mouth and a mangled-but-still-strong hand gripping delicious bruises into his hip, Dorian performed.  His hips, even restrained, rolled up and back, dancing to the limit of his range.  The hand rubbing his nipple returns to action, plucking and pinching, his back arching into his hand, pressed closer and closer to the warmth of the man over him.  His other hand, like his hips, danced it’s way down his body; twisting the other nipple with a gasp, dragging nails down his side, fingers tickling along his thigh moving inwards, until his prick is gripped hard.

He moans around Bull’s fingers, his own fingers loosening to a teasing hold.

Bull, leaned forward, teeth pulling again at a taut neck and digging into the purple and red bruise already hot on the man’s shoulder.  Dorian only whined again, louder when the Bull’s reviving cock brushed his own.  With a final, deep suck, Dorian drops his jaw to release slick fingers.

“I think enough time has been wasted, don’t you, amatus?” Dorian ignored the wavering in his voice, how close to orgasm he sounded, how rough.

Instead of answering, the Bull leaned back, pulling Dorian down the bed with him until the man was flat on his back and the kossith had dark legs on either side of him.  Dorian, without being told, left his hands gripped onto the bottom of the headboard and rolled his hips one final time into the Iron Bull’s lap with a moan.

“Gonna open you up, fill you up,” the Bull ground out as he nuzzled into Dorian’s twitching belly, tongue darting out to tease along his belly button, “gonna ride me, kadan?”

Dorian may have said yes, but it was lost as Bull opened his mouth and smoothly swallowed the mage’s prick into his mouth, and he groans instead.

Bull took his opportunity while his mage was wholly distracted to reach out for the phail, to coat his fingers, to reach down and to tease around his rim.  Dorian’s response, unsurprising to Bull, is to try to push his hips down on that finger, to force Bull inside him.  But he’s stuck, not wanting to leave the wet heat of the Bull’s mouth and wanting to have Bull inside him.  So he whined, head lifted to watch, as the Bull lapped at his dick and slowly pressed into him.  

Hours passed, or so it seemed to Dorian, fingers white-knuckled against the dark wood, holding himself up and open as the Bull pressed fingers slowly into him.  First the one, twisting and hot and slick, the two, scissoring his tight flesh loose, and then three, burning and hot and Dorian cries out feeling full feeling the Bull inside him everywhere.  He wasn’t sure when the Bull stopped sucking him in favor of watching him.

“Bull- Bull, please.  Please, I’m ready.  Let me ride you.” He begged, rolling to meet the thrust of fingers.

The kossith pulled away, a smirk and smart comment on his lips, though only the smirk showed itself.  He made room for Dorian to rise to his knees, handed the man the phial, and leaned back onto the headboard.  While he made himself comfortable, he watched as Dorian warmed the oil in his palms before reaching forward to wrap both around his cock.  It was his turn to groan as Dorian took the opportunity to tease him, warm, slick hands trailing from head to root and down to his balls, even back to his own puckered entrance, slipping one slim finger in while the other hand made thorough work of rubbing oil everywhere.

“You going to ride me or _ride_ me?” The Bull laughed, angling his hips for his lover’s better access.

“Oh, I’m going to ride you, alright, you big lug.  But I can give you something to think about otherwise.” He said with a smile and twist of his finger to rub against sensitive nerves within him.  The kossith growled, leaned forward to pick the man up and placed him in his lap.

“I have plenty to think about, right here.” He replied, hands sliding down the man’s dark sides to grip into his hips.

Smiling, Dorian knelt up and let Bull hold himself in position as the mage sank onto his seat.  He groaned, pulsing up and down, working the kossith’s cock into him inch by inch.  And once their hips were flush together, he sat and _squeezed_ and rolled his hips back and forth.

Bull groaned again, arching up into his lover while pulling him down, grinding them together.  “Yeah,” he said, running his hands up and down Dorian’s back, “plenty to think about right now.”

Dorian’s smile, which had faded with concentration and the delightful ache of being stretched and full, relit and he rolled again.  “Don’t forget your audience participation.”

In response, the Bull brought one hand down to the other man’s ass and dug his fingers in as his other hand went up to pull on a nipple, tugging the piercing and then rubbing a warm thumb across the abused flesh to soothe.

Dorian wasted no time, hands bracing him on a muscled thigh behind him and the gentle bulk before him, and set to riding.  He slid up and down, rolling when he had full control of his abdominals, squeezing and searching for the right angles.  The mage loved, more than anything, the way the Bull filled him, how he didn’t actually need any of the ‘right angles’ to finally get off because when the Bull was inside him, there was no part of him that wasn’t massaged.  Being with the Bull was absolute.

The Iron Bull just held on, egging Dorian on, “That’s right big guy,” he grunts as he thrusts up to meet one of Dorian’s undulating rolls, “show me all about life.” His tone more than smug.

“That’s right, you ass, I _am_ your life.” Dorian punctuated by dropping down, pulling Bull deep, and grinding against him.

The Bull gave up trying to talk, only moaned and gripped harder at the man’s hips abandoning his other pursuits to bring the mage down hard against him.

Dorian continued on, fighting off his own orgasm, “Come on, amatus, show me.”  And then Dorian too lost an interest in words, instead crying out as the Bull shot into him, groaning deep and loud.  As the intense heat burst through him, Dorian whined, grinding down on Bull, head thrown back.  Begging and begging, “Please Bull, _please_ , make come.”

With a smile, and an intent look, Bull reached down and stroked loose fingers up and down, “Come for me Dorian, show me kadan.”

Dorian’s back arched, almost of it’s own will, and his orgasm shot through and out of him.  And, in the wake of it, he fell forward, shaky arms holding him over the Bulls heaving chest.  He blinked, leaned down, and licked some of the pearly fluid off of a nipple.  Bull shivered, arms thrown wide, around, and pulled the mage down to him, spend cooling between them.

Dorian nuzzled sleepily into the Bull’s throat.  “Thank you.”

“Happy All Soul’s Day?” The Bull ventured.

“Heathen,” Dorian sighed, then laughed, “yes.”

 

 


End file.
